


winner takes all

by caeos



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Related, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, One Shot, Volleyball Dorks in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-12-31 15:16:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21147824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caeos/pseuds/caeos
Summary: He stumbled back a step or two, eyes reading the scoreboard again and again if only to reinforce reality. They’d won. Every match until now, they’d won. Now nationals. They. Had. Won.His eyes met Bokuto’s, as they often do, only now there seemed to be a new kind of weight in their eye contact. Something that tugged them closer and closer andcloser— a siren song of sorts — until Akaashi simply stumbled into his arms, tripping over his own feet the last couple of steps as the rest of the team surged together around them and that ringing in Akaashi’s ears rose to a crescendo that felt like nails on a chalkboard. Everything was louder than he’d like, though he supposed this is what it felt liketo win.





	winner takes all

**Author's Note:**

> alternate title 'v sweaty boys have some feelings and kiss about them'  
also... fukurodanifornationals

The whole world seemed to shudder when they won, like the roar of the crowd jumping to their feet and screaming themselves hoarse made the earth shift beneath them, even if only by a millimetre. That would be enough.  
Akaashi’s world spun with it, legs utterly void of feeling as he stumbled back a step or two, eyes reading the scoreboard again and again if only to reinforce reality. They’d won. Every match until now, they’d won. Now nationals. They. Had. Won.  
  
His eyes met Bokuto’s, as they often do, only now there seemed to be a new kind of weight in their eye contact. Something that tugged them closer and closer and _closer_ — a siren song of sorts — until Akaashi simply stumbled into his arms, tripping over his own feet the last couple of steps as the rest of the team surged together around them and that ringing in Akaashi’s ears rose to a crescendo that felt like nails on a chalkboard. Everything was louder than he’d like, though he supposed this is what it felt like to win. Too much to take in all at once.  
  
So he focused on what he _could_ feel, which wasn’t much. Alarmingly, there wasn’t a single complaint from his muscles, as though they too were weightless from the win; in fact he was only aware they’d been moving from the slow shift of the crowd around them, passing by like a train trundling through its station. And although Akaashi could hear the blood rushing about his ears he couldn’t feel that pounding in his chest that let him know this wasn’t a dream.  
But he could feel Bokuto’s, a strong heartbeat that seemed to ripple across his skin until the vibrations of it danced up Akaashi’s fingertips which clung to his waist as a lifeline. The steady thrum of his ace’s heartbeat that he assumed would match the pace of their steps, had he been able to feel them at all. That he could trust in.  
That and the roar that hit him in the gut before the ears, the victorious cries from his teammates as they found the fortitude from somewhere deep within to _run_ and _leap_ and _soar_ their way up the sidelines. Komi performed a series of backflips before falling flat on his ass and erupting into a fit of laughter, Saru trying and failing to haul him back onto his feet as their sweaty palms slapped together uselessly.  
  
They were ushered off the court by their coach and managers, most likely to prevent anyone from celebrating themselves into a broken bone. Though as Bokuto’s arm curled about him protectively Akaashi thought for a moment this was enough of a reward, to be here with him — with them all — at the end of their journey.  
  
The corridor they were led through seemed to swallow the blunt shrieks of the crowd, smothering them until they were just a faint rumble in the distance. It engulfed the heat of the court too. Where there was once a buzz of electrical equipment and the bustling back and forth of the audience was now walls of acrylic that offered no congratulations and, instead of echoing into the wide open space of centre court, the squeak of their sneakers was eaten up by those uniform angles of the flat, white walls.  
The air was cool, Akaashi could feel it flowing up the legs of his shorts where the material wasn’t slick to his skin, still it failed to make him shiver — Bokuto staving off the chill, enshrouding him like a blanket.  
Then it stopped, and the air was stark cold as Bokuto took away the reassuring weight from his shoulder and fell back slowly against the wall of the corridor, drawing in heavy breaths, broad chest rising and falling as the rest of the team passed between them — Akaashi catching the intensity in Bokuto’s golden eyes in fractured frames as the throng moved on. And, at last, his ace moved.  
  
Pawing at the cuff of his jacket, pulling until it finally budged from his slick limbs and he could wrangle one arm free. The other wasn’t so lucky, getting caught and turned inside out as he tugged the sleeve off sharply, Akaashi was about to scold him before Bokuto tossed the fabric into the air and — purely from habit — Akaashi found himself reaching to catch it.  
Only it didn’t hit the floor, it didn’t even leave Bokuto’s hand, his fingers still fisted in the material as Akaashi felt the others glide across his jawline and the distance between them shrank until there was nothing left at all. _Bokuto was kissing him. _A bruising kiss that would have stolen the air from Akaashi's lungs had he had any left to steal.  
Akaashi’s eyes flickered for a moment before falling shut, shrouded under Bokuto’s jacket there wasn’t much use keeping them open anyway. The kiss was blind, touch their only guiding light as Bokuto’s lips finally relaxed and Akaashi felt the kiss break only for a moment as Bokuto realigned their mouths to catch his bottom lip between his own and Akaashi could finally reciprocate. _Finally._  
  
He rolled up onto his tiptoes, not that he needed the extra height but instead so he could arc into Bokuto’s touch, feel their heartbeats hammering in unison through the slither of space between their chests. There’s sweat on Bokuto’s upper lip — Akaashi could taste the salt of it on his tongue — then again there was sweat everywhere; at the back of his neck where Bokuto’s fingers tangled themselves in the light curls at the base of his skull; under Akaashi’s palm as it glided up Bokuto’s torso, where the droplets followed the curve of his chest and collected at his sternum, making his jersey stick to him like a second skin.  
A hand slid past his waist, fingers splayed across the small of his back as Bokuto held him upright, his knees all but buckling beneath him, all too aware that their makeshift privacy curtain had fallen aside — if the whistles and hoots from the rest of their teammates were anything to go by — but Akaashi’s eyes were screwed too tightly shut to check.  
The kiss broke once more and this time when Bokuto returned to him his touch was so featherlight Akaashi almost keeled over because it was every fantasy he’d ever had, to be loved so deeply and tenderly that his heart might just give out from shock. Because he had spent years telling himself _"you don’t deserve this" _and this was Bokuto talking without words, telling him, _“You do.”_  
  
Lips patient and pliant as they met, Bokuto happy to match whatever pace Akaashi set before they pulled apart entirely, Bokuto letting out a small satisfied sigh, both unwilling and unable to catch their breath. Akaashi was drunk on the feeling that curled in his gut, making his limbs utterly lax, mind swirling in a haze as his tongue brushed over his lower lip to find that he could still taste Bokuto on his skin.  
There was sweat pooled in the crease of his eyelid, perhaps tears too but Akaashi was too overstimulated to quite process every single ounce of fluid, only aware that his vision was blurred as his eyes finally pried themselves open to find his world a mess of streaked light in shades of white, black and gold.  
But then the pad of a thumb brushed over one eye, leaving a prickling sensation on his skin in its wake and clearing his vision as he blinked frantically to take in the whole scene.  
  
Bokuto was smiling gingerly, teeth just barely visible between his kiss-swollen lips and hair falling from his finely crafted up-do, plastered to the sweat running in rivulets down his temples and the slope of his nose. It was all Akaashi could see before he was pulled into the visage.  
  
“_Thank you._”  
  
It was spoken so quietly into the crook of his neck — where Bokuto had so thoroughly burrowed his face out of view — that Akaashi almost thought it was part of the mirage, the stream of impossibilities that was currently playing out before him.  
Fingers clenched tight at his shoulder as Bokuto held his setter against him, practically propping himself up on the younger man as he let out quiet sobs of gratitude into the shelter of Akaashi’s shoulder  
  
“_Thank you so much._”  
  
Laughter rang out from all about them as the squabble moved in. Another set of arms wrapped over Akaashi’s back, a hand at the centre of his spine, a blast of hot air across his cheek as a chin nestled down atop Bokuto’s bicep and Akaashi knows he’s at the centre of the pure jubilation of his team, held tightly together, not one of them willing to be the first to break away until they simply sink to the floor together — laughing the entire way.  
  
“Finally!” Komi exclaimed, extracting himself from the pile with surprising ease, arms flung high into the air. “Now we won’t have to watch you two pine at each other from across the gym ever again!”  
  
“Screw that!” Konoha interjected, muffled at first as he slithered his way out from under Washio’s collapsed frame, legs still too thoroughly entangled in the dogpile to fully escape. “We won!”  
  
Which only started up another series of hoots and hollers before the managers finally stepped in to help the players to their feet, bringing each one into a crushing embrace as the feeling in their legs finally returned to let them know they’re not going to be able to move for the next week and yet none of them could find it in themselves to care.  
  
There’s a new series of bruises blossoming on Komi’s knees, a reminder of that last receive that had set up their win, Saru nurses a similarly brutal mark on his cheekbone, one worthwhile risk, the victorious outcome of which numbed the pain in his cheek more than the ice ever could. Washio had completely stripped off one shoe, poking at a particularly nasty blister as Konoha slapped him across the neck playfully with his own sweaty sock, ignoring — or perhaps simply not feeling — the blood that seeped through the tape on his fingers. The injuries would fade with time, but this _feeling_ of their win would stay even when the memories eroded, they knew it.  
  
Warmth wrapped about Akaashi as the familiar smell of Bokuto's jacket was bundled about him, the man himself sliding into the seat beside him, in all honestly Akaashi hadn’t noticed the sweat on his skin rapidly cooling about him until Bokuto was there in all his radiance, sweating up a storm and still unfathomably handsome under the fluorescent lights.  
  
“You’ll catch a cold,” Bokuto said, echoing some word of advice Akaashi was sure he’d scolded his ace for before. _He listens_, Akaashi found himself thinking, _and he remembers_. They’d be parting ways shortly, Akaashi had tried his best to forget but it was always there like a phantom in the back of his mind, no matter the outcome of nationals he’d be losing one way or another.  
  
At least that’s how he’d felt up until about five minutes prior, the second Bokuto’s lips touched his own.  
  
Akaashi smiled, the kind of smile that Bokuto often shares with him, eyes squeezed shut and baring all his teeth until it’s almost too dazzling to look at — Bokuto laughed, perhaps it doesn’t look as endearing on him.  
  
But then his arm is hoisted over Bokuto's back, shouldering his weight as Akaashi lumbered to his feet. He couldn't quite decipher who’s keeping who upright but he knows his cheeks _hurt_ because of how wide his smile has stretched. He can’t quite remember a time that his face hurt like this, that he’d ever had a reason to smile so freely.  
But they were moving forward, that’s all that mattered. Bokuto caught his eye for a moment and paused — just for a second — to press a kiss to Akaashi’s temple before hiking him up more securely and continuing onward.  
Akaashi knows now — focusing the last of his energy on syncing his steps with Bokuto’s, finally listening to the unsteady beats of his heart, aflutter once more as he’s tucked up under Bokuto’s wingspan,_ safe —_ this is not the end. This is only the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> i swear i've forgotten how to write... not that i ever actually knew lmao, hope you enjoyed~  
find me on [tumblr](https://ccaeos.tumblr.com/)!!


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